Amagi
by Irkala
Summary: Alternative concept-post main story. I've always envisioned her undergoing some sort of slow mental breakdown, needless to say this is that vision. Not for those with a weak constitution. I tried something a little odd towards the end with the framework of the story that some might notice. If it's confusing I apologize, it was kind of an experiment.


She was something of a very quiet girl, not one that you would ever really picture being too outgoing or lively.

It started not but a week ago.

She began to look more and more disheveled as she came to class. One could see cracks appearing on her face—her calm demeanor slowly breaking down piece by piece. There was something faint, something irritating the inside of her pretty face, something eating at the inside of her skull. It was like a ticking sound, you could almost swear you'd hear it sometimes; an irritating ticking sound that just kept knocking at your temples. That's the feeling her classmates got from her almost panic stricken eyes those last days; her flawless complexion slowly beginning to get a deeply pale, her grim composure slowly getting darker and darker. Her dark hair seemed to almost move on its own sometimes; some would swear they would see it undulate untouched during the calmest moments in class. Eventually they all became aware that there was something awful simmering inside of her, under her breath.

Then, two nights ago, the façade of sanity and poise smoldered into oblivion.

She had been lying awake like she had been these last few months, watching demons dance across her ceiling, shadows pulsing and warping under the night's shade. It was sickening, something was making her sick about everything, everyone. Her friends, her closest friends were becoming irritating, repulsive even. Her parents, her teachers, her coworkers, she hated them, _hated_them. She didn't know why, she didn't care either. Being among them made her sick, she wanted to throw up in her mouth just seeing them in the morning. She despised every last one of them. They didn't deserve to be in the same building as her, let alone the same town, or even on the same planet.

She was perfect after all, she was perfection incarnate. A truly perfect girl who's femininity nearly transcended into goddess-hood. While she would admit, her cooking wasn't particularly perfect—that didn't matter, as a person she was flawless in every way. She knew it, and everyone else knew it too. The others, they were just jealous, all of them, _just_ _jealous._

Why did people have to be so blind?

Sure some appreciated her beauty, but they were all dogs anyway—no one who mattered acknowledged her. The world clearly was dying if it didn't see her purity, which she knew shined beyond God's own.

This night though, she heard a sound from out the window that infuriated her beyond measure.

It was a laughing, a giggling.

She glanced over at her alarm clock—it was almost two in the morning. Who were they to be so bold?

She stood up and peeked out the window, she could see three forms moving down the street in the distance, dimly lit by the street lights. One of the figures was hunched over—the laughing one. They were three girls, drunkards who had left a party or bar of sorts most likely.

They will pay _dearly_.

She stared at them for what felt like an eternity, watching them move farther and farther down the street. Eventually the laughing one fell over and appeared to begin vomiting.

"Too much liquor you whore?" she whispered to herself in the dark.

Her friends kept laughing and walked off, they seemed to assume she'd just walk it off and catch up to them.

They were _wrong__._

Now was the time to take action. She turned and left her room, heading down the stairs of the Inn and being sure to stop by the kitchen to grab her favorite butcher knife. It was _so shiny,_so beautiful and precise, just like its wielder. She smiled at her _perfect_ reflection in the blade and stepped outside. The atmosphere was heavy, the rustic and old walls almost chuckling at her-pushing her to go farther.

The air outside was cool but not too much so, and humid enough to keep her on edge. All she wore was her night gown after all, but she knew she wouldn't be outside for long. She slowly approached the whore who by now was softly crying to herself as her friends walked farther and farther down the street. She appeared to be in some sort of pain, the alcohol apparently wasn't agreeing with her stomach. She took another breath, taking in the aura of it all, of fate. The nearest streetlight was too far to light her up really, at least to be particularly visible. She knew her identity was safe right there, standing over the girl. The breeze danced around them, almost capturing the moment.

She smiled to the drunk, "Don't worry, I'll make you feel better."

The girl looked up, dazed and completely unaware at the entity in front of her. There was vomit on her shirt and jeans, she wreaked and was downright pathetic to look at honestly.

In an instant the knife was inside her mouth, but she had made sure not to cut the thing's face up just yet. With the knife in her mouth, the girl began making somewhat soft shrieking sounds, but was too inebriated to get up or fight.

"Did you like waking me up this late? That was very rude and un-lady like. I'm going to help you though, when I'm done you won't be so obnoxious.!" She said, putting her hand around the girl's head. She gripped into her hair, bracing for the incision. It all felt so right, the terror and panic charged the air.

Suddenly she pulled the knife through the drunken idiot's cheek, blood spatter rained on the street. The pathetic thing began screaming hysterically but it died a bit to a dull moaning as she fell to her alcohol poisoning again. There was some small spatter on her night gown, but it was nothing, it would come out easy. It didn't matter anyway, with this _improvement __all was well again._

She began laughing a bit, after all the drunk certainly wasn't anymore.

With that she returned silently to her home, a few blocks away but still close enough to see the spectacle that would unfold in time.

She quickly and quietly washed the knife off in the sink, making extra care to make sure it was sparkling and flawless before returning it to its resting place. With that, and like her favorite knife, she took to the washroom and quickly rinsed off. Washing off the blood was somewhat of a renewal, washing away the ignorance and idiocy that so bled off of the filth outside, that so bled off from the useless public. She felt her former self return to a faint balance, peace obtained.

It was quick, upon turning on the television the next day the media sprang on it like piranha to meat; an assailant roaming such peaceful land? Who could do such a thing to such an _innocent_girl? It was reminiscent to events that had happened in the recent past-a murderer roaming the land. She couldn't help but smile at the news, the moron couldn't even describe her—she was too drunk!

She felt alive, she felt unbeatable even. Unfortunately it didn't last long.

There's this girl—no this other whore. Her name is Rise. Just hearing that name makes her sick. Everything about her from her stupid, up-inclined voice, to her God damned cheap perfume was repugnant. Even her subconscious is a seedy harlot-house.

Rise's tricks didn't work on her though.

But when her friends began falling for the whore's tricks and draws—there was no turning back. Something _had_to be done. That's where this all comes to play, last night she made her move.

She knew that Rise was going to a party with a few of their friends—she was invited to go with them but she didn't want to, she hated everything and everyone there; being in the same presence as Rise was the same as forsaking her dignity anyway. She knew that Rise was friends with the party's owner and was most likely going to get drunk like the rest of the idiots and pass out there. As a "Celebrity," she had a lot of experience with drugs and that kind of abhorrent lifestyle.

This was it, the perfect place to make a move.

She purchased a long crimson dress and began to bide her time.

It's rather unfortunate, that things had to be this way. A close friend, and a rather obnoxious and tomboyish girl was beginning to notice the "warning signs" something was wrong. While she did somewhat care for this girl, this _friend_, she didn't want her to worry.

Besides, they would spend all the time in the world together after this—she had a long box to stuff her friend in under her bed so they could talk every night. Her _friend_ is a bit of a manipulative harpy; she had thought she had been forgiven for her sins. She had never been forgiven; her petty crime was not going to disappear.

Yes, the casket under the bed was going to be her friend's new home soon enough, and they will be close and talk to each other every night, _every night.__ They were best friends after all, nightly bonding time would do them good—her captive body trapped in a sullen tomb._

That's all later though, as the night fell she began to walk to that side of town. She had told her rather thick parents she was going to a dance, they seemed suspicious but let her go anyway. It was too easy, now the real fun was to begin. The walls whispered to her as she left, incantations and utterances of black fates emanated from them and the grounds outside the Inn. The world, the atmosphere, all speaking to her to finish the job, to end the process. Her inner machinations were warping and twisting at some sort of abominate mirror that she knew would only be quelled at the finishing of this little _problem._

She left around seven, but since the party wasn't due to begin around nine she paced around town, waiting for the moment to begin heading to her final destination. She would rather not be seen by anyone she knew-but she also knew that was inevitable so she didn't mind, after all when she made it to the party she didn't intend to be seen anyway. It would be wise to stay away from frequent spots and perhaps go somewhere quiet, a cemetery or bike path perhaps? Staying away from old hang-outs and regulars her peers frequented was a wise choice. She got the usual glances and stares from filthy old perverts and men who had no moral quandaries with observing a school girl in a dress. It didn't matter, they were all below her anyway—besides she knew how perfect she looked.

As she wandered she felt the ticking pulse her temples. The town was so surreal, so unreal even. These last few years had declined more and more her sense of reality. What was left of her after the recent and tragic events involving her and all of her peers was rather dismembered and disturbed. She was beginning to have a hard time breathing, a common side effect of the ticking. The air seemed so sickly, so corrupted. She was becoming more and more certain that this town didn't really exist, that none of the surrounding mirages did, that they were all just emanations of a dying and warped psyche that shouldn't exist in the first place. Something she didn't understand, herself, or the world around her. She hadn't always been like this, but as the crack within her widened, so did her madness. It was inevitable, and so she approached it with certainty and poise, accepting simultaneously that those around her were simply weak and unworthy of her presence as the figurehead of balance and serenity that she knew she was.

Finally the time came and she made her approach.

The bass from the music in the large house was enough to catch her attention as she walked closer and closer down the road. It was somewhat in the middle of nowhere so the worry about neighbors was very small—the houses were acres apart. She hated walking on such a rural road but there was almost no traffic and she could see most of the party goers were already there; the yard was jammed full of cars. It was a cheerleader's house and apparently the parents were out for the weekend. The humid air had sunk down and she felt her skin tingling with the brushing of the tall grass around her, the trees also dancing in the light breeze. Again the ticking and whispers returned, all beckoning her from unseen and hideous points in a faded and nonexistent space that could only be imagined by the black Gods of the under realms. The stars gaping down at her from a sky that both swallowed her and overruled the land around her; they made her incredibly uncomfortable in that darkness in the middle of the country. Something about the void they rested in reminded her of herself, of her own madness; she simply tried to ignore them.

Her favorite knife was hidden in a large purse she had alongside her, her crimson dress dancing ever so slightly in the breeze as she drew closer and closer. The party had apparently been going on for a few hours. She knew most of the people there were already hammered, even the 'perfect' Rise was probably spreading her legs already.

_Idol._

As she approached the house a few drunken boys stumbled out and began fighting right there in the front yard. They somewhat pushed and shoved a bit until they were nearly in the center, just before a large tree. She didn't need this kind of attention—she quickly hid behind a car and watched as a few people came out and broke it up. The ticking disappeared as she began to notice who they were. One of them was another _friend_ of hers, a rather attractive boy she had class with. She gritted her teeth; it didn't matter, that Rise whore had bewitched him. She wouldn't after this, no not after this.

She noticed that he was rather tipsy, but not too out of it. He just wasn't much of a drinker, but she knew if he stayed out here for a little bit, that's all she would need in terms of time. In all honesty she was surprised to see him here at all. He had left town recently, but she heard he was coming back. It was perfect, soon it would all be over.

She could hear singing coming from inside the house, it was surely none other than the attention whoring Rise. This put a horridly bitter taste in her mouth. The cars made something of a maze as she tried to move around to approach the house from the back. The crickets sang their melody as the humidity gently scraped her skin. She eventually made it to the back yard and saw a small bonfire with a rather large amount of people drinking around it. There were almost rows of chairs and people circling the fire. One of the party goers was another friend of hers, another obnoxious boy—him and her close, female friend. They were both noticeably drunk and arguing every now and then over minor things while the others around them tried to keep it under control, typical of those two dolts. Her insides tingled as she briefly gazed at her female friend, the future she had for her, the future they had _together._

Just then, she heard Rise stop singing and her voice draw closer and closer the backyard.

The sliding glass door opened and she heard Rise step out. The whore had apparently received a phone call, stepping outside in a direction to get some privacy for her call. This was it, this was the moment she had been waiting for.

She pulled out her knife as Rise approached, waiting along the side of the house, safely hidden by shrubbery and a few cars. The moment the harlot turned the corner, it was all over. With Rise in her sights, she simply locked on. She could feel her insides churning more and more with anxiety. Her light layer of make-up somewhat jittering on the surface of her face-or so it felt. Everything was alive,_everything was moving_.

The whore talked, and talked, and talked, until finally she closed her phone. She was clearly drunk, very tipsy indeed—perfect. Our Highness stood up and lunged, and in an instant had Rise pinned down. With the knife to her throat she slowly led her under a rather large shrub and truck that was parked right there. Luckily no one was on that side of the house, and no one would be able to see them in the dark and cover anyway. It really was destiny. The whore didn't say a word, she could be heard softly crying though.

No one would save her.

"Tears won't help you here."

Rise stammered, "W-wait, a-a-are you. . .?"

She saw her, she stared into her. _She stared into her eyes and inhaled her life in._

The whore struggled to see between her inebriated vision and the darkness, she had no intent on hiding her face though; she wanted her to see her killer.

"Wait, Yu-?" her killer covered her mouth with one hand, silencing her voice for the last time. With the other hand she pushed the knife into Rise's throat. Her soft skin being shredded by the blade as it softly slid in, relatively easily actually. It made a soft sound as it penetrated deeper and deeper. She almost felt at the heights of an orgasm by now.

Blood began pouring out of the wound, onto her hands and the soft grass below them. It was so warm, so _alive._She briefly tasted a little off of her hand, the whore's blood was surprisingly sweet.

"You won't sing again, you won't laugh again, you won't do anything again you fucking slut," her killer whispered, a great joy rising up inside of her. She almost lifted out of herself as she watched Rise's eyes get wider and duller with every drop of blood leaving her body. She giggled at the gurgling sounds of the whore choking on her fluids, her lungs desperately trying to breathe. Her arms were lightly flailing about, but she kept them mostly pinned down under her legs.

Rise wasn't going anywhere.

She stared at the thin and revealing dress the harlot wore, her horrid perfume and gaudy necklace. Her cheap hooker dyed hair looked so desperate, so pathetic. Everything about her was repulsive and shallow, a superficial vacuum that simply needed to be wiped out.

"That is quite enough. With my knife in there, you will find it awfully hard to breathe. Careful Rise. . .don't. . .lose your head!"

She began laughing hysterically, she couldn't stop as a matter of fact!

She was commonly made fun of for laughing at rather small and insignificant things but Rise was dead! Rise was finally dead and she had done it, she had ended the wretch's life. Of all the filth and pollution around her that made her sick, Rise was among the worst.

Now. . .now he would be _hers_.

No one will ever know what happened here, no one will ever know who killed her. Rise had many obsessed fans anyway; they would never guess her killer was so close to home.

She had no blood on her dress amazingly, it was on her hands and legs though, it didn't matter however. The ticking was back, but she ignored the things crawling in her head to savor the moment. Rise's body was well hidden under the truck and away from the moonlight. No one would find the body till morning she was sure, and by then, she would be long gone and home safe.

They'll never suspect her.

He will soon come to his senses and come to her. It will be glorious; he will obtain his true place by her side, no longer by the Rise whore.

"I am no longer just Yukiko Amagi, I am true beauty, I am a shining Goddess," she murmured to herself, there alone in the dark; the party's sickening atmosphere dancing around her. It all made her sick, but Rise's death was so welcomed it almost nullified the disgust.

"I am simply perfect."


End file.
